


salted wound

by streimel



Series: Gamble the World On You (Blackjack) [13]
Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streimel/pseuds/streimel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Howon opens his eyes, Woohyun's face is dark, essentially unreadable. Woohyun is looking at him like he's seeing him for the first time. He wants to ask why, but doesn't get the chance to - Woohyun pushes off the door frame, moving straight toward him, and his arms open.</i>
</p>
<p>Woohyun reserves Howon's Jindo Island <i>hanok</i> for an extended stay to immerse himself in writing his next screenplay - at least, that's the story Howon was given. It doesn't take long for Howon to figure out there's something else behind Woohyun's stay, and Woohyun tries to find out what secrets could make a Busan native seclude himself so far away from home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	salted wound

**Author's Note:**

> cw: previous character death, mentions of homophobia, slight mentions previous of physical/verbal abuse

 

It's raining when the visitor arrives, bringing in the scent of wet earth and a gust of wind as the panel doors are slid open to the main room, making way for bag after bag of luggage.

Howon needs only a few moments to introduce him to the compound. The main house is three rooms, and he points out everything else from beneath the protection of the porch roof, raising his voice to be heard over the din of rain pounding above them.

"Bathroom is that building. I know it's inconvenient, but it's modern." He's trying his best to avoid staring at the growing look of perturbation on his guest's face as he watches the rainfall. "That's a storeroom, the chicken coop, of course, and a work shed. It has traditional tools and my fishing supplies, but feel free to look through it if that helps you. There's the kitchen building, but I have a gas stove I keep in here, too. The gate stays closed only so the animals don't get out, but I never lock it. You are feel free to come and go as you please. My guests tell me walking the beach at midnight is spectacular; when it stops raining, I'll show you the path. There's a river, as well. It's nice. It's only about a 10 minute walk."

"What's a Busan boy like you doing in a dump like Jindo?" It's a strange way to begin a conversation, and Howon doesn't know whether he should be singularly or doubly offended. He doesn't try to hide his accent, just like this guy from Seoul here doesn't either, but he's also never had to field off questions from strangers as to his geographical displacement.

The look he gives must say doubly, because his guest raises both hands, trying (and failing) to look contrite. "Didn't mean anything by it. Just asking questions. I'm a details-oriented person, you know? If you're interesting enough, I'll write you into my script somehow."

Howon expected something to be said, though not necessarily this quick. The e-mail from the company couldn't have forced more references to it in their message when they had made the reservation online - some big-shot screenwriter needed a traditional home to stay in Jindo for a month or so to write some period drama and his listing had matched their specifications. What they asked for was invasive - total access to his house and lifestyle. In return, they were offering him a third of his yearly income for the month's rent; that wasn't something he was going to turn down.

Howon hadn't thought about it for more than a moment before replying a simple 'reservation accepted', but that was partly because someone else was waiting to use the computer, the only one in this part of the island, and his mind was otherwise occupied with the nets he had left 45 minutes up the river. On the walk through the forest, he had laughed to himself over what they had said, bragging about the popularity of this guy and how much of an honor it would be to house him. Howon hadn't watched TV in 4 years; he didn't think any of the 80 people who lived in the village even owned a TV. A guest was a guest at his house - a way to earn extra money as people paid him 30,000 won a night to "get in touch with themselves and nature", away from the world out in the middle of Jindo-do. He didn't ask for explanations, and, often, they didn't provide them.

"I'm Lee Howon. I'm 28. This is my home, and the people of Jindo are my family. I will help you here with anything you might need - so long as you don't disparage me, or them."

The visitor laughs, and Howon looks on, watching his eyes crinkle up and imagining a thousand permutations of how this exact scene will play out again and again during the next month. The most a guest ever takes of his time is a dinner or two and perhaps a walk around to see the paths. Howon already has an overwhelming sense that this guy is going to go far beyond that. While he knows the surrounding countryside like the back of his hand, and could probably find somewhere secluded enough to kill this guy and dispose of his body with no traces, he would undoubtedly be missed. He's going to have to deal or risk losing his sanity.

"Nam Woohyun. Also 28. When's your birthday?"

"Late March."

"Oooh, early February here. Feel free to call me hyung."

Howon nods as he steps off the porch and into the downpour, bare feet squelching through mud. He hears Woohyun call after him, debating for a moment whether to acknowledge him or not, before turning back. The rain wets his bangs into his eyes, and when he looks up at Woohyun, standing on the edge of the porch, he's giving him a look that Howon can't seem to identify.

"Where are you going?" Woohyun is cool with his tone, playing at nonchalant but coming off looking like a kid afraid to be left behind.

"To check my lines for the night," Howon responds, as if it were obvious. Woohyun nods, as if he should have known, and he sets off again.

"Without shoes?"

"Don't need 'em," Howon calls over his shoulder.

"Lee Howon-sshi!"

Howon stops for the third time, this time not hiding the irritation that stands out on his face when he turns once more. "Yes?"

"Will you take me?" Woohyun asks. "When it's not raining?"

"If that's what you want, _hyung_."

* * *

It rains for three days straight.

Howon had known it would happen. He could see it in the clouds, the lingering, close gray that covered the earth like a winter blanket. In the way the frogs on the banks of the river found shelter under leaves. The chickens in the coop closed their eyes and huddled together, seeming frozen in time as the rain kept on.

The first two days, he had tried to hide in his shed, returning only after he saw the light in the main house go out, feeling a sort of pervasive anxiety visitors before had never caused. No one had ever asked for so much of his life, and no one had ever stayed for more than a week, but the idea of the time passing went so slow, slower still in the rain. He wanted Woohyun gone, already, but rescinding his offer was out of the question, and he couldn't quite bring himself to try to sabotage Woohyun's visit to the point where he would want to leave on his own volition. For the first time in a long time, Howon was stuck, and he hated it.

The first hours of the day three brought about the completion of two nets that had been ordered, as well as the repair of one of his own that had been neglected for some time in a bucket in the corner. He had snuck around the house, quiet past the open doors and a distracted Woohyun, to slip through the front gate and check on his drift nets in the inlet. The ocean called to him, water running over his feet, beckoning him to come, but he wasn't daring enough to try its waves, not with lightning crackling overhead.

He returns to the house, run out of anything else to do. He cleans the fish he brought back in the rain, washing his knife off in the rivulets running from the eaves of the roof, and steels himself to endure Woohyun's company. There's a pair of muddy slippers by the door, seemingly kicked off in a hurry, one on it's side feet away from the other. The idea of Woohyun, accustomed to his comfortable cosmopolitan life, slip-sliding through the muck on the way to the bathroom makes him feel just that much better.

Under the roof on the porch, a tick-tacking sound stands out from the rain, only stopping when he crowds the doorway, blocking out the little natural light. Woohyun looks up from his table strewn with notepads and tea cups, eyes squinted until they adjust, and then he smiles in a way that makes Howon's stomach flip just a little, for reasons he can't quite put his finger on. It's been a long time since someone looked at him and smiled like they were glad to have his company. Of course, the people in the village are kind to him, but it's different with Woohyun's hand flapping his way, urging him to sit.

"Howon-sshi, I've been looking for you. Come, I have questions to ask."

Howon slides his legs under the low table, jolting when he accidentally kicks at Woohyun's knee, but Woohyun just sends him another smile. He's still not sure how he feels about Woohyun's presence and how it will linger around him for the next month, but he almost wants to take back his initial misgivings he had the day before.

"Alright, so, I did some research before I left," Woohyun says, finger pointing to a line on one of his notepads as if it helps him remember his train of thought. "If we're being honest, though, I don't know anything about Jindo, or fishing, or any of this shit. Fill me in, man."

It takes Howon some time to adjust to Woohyun's flippancy, and even though he knows he's going to go down a path that probably doesn't have a foreseeable end, he can't help but wonder why Woohyun chose this for his setting.

"Look, I don't want to come off as rude, but why choose Jindo if you didn't know anything about it? I mean, it doesn't quite have the mythological lore of Jeju, or even the isolationist romance of Ulleungdo. It's just _Jindo_. Life hasn't changed in a long time. You're really going to churn out 14 or 16 episodes about this place?"

There's a bit of color high on Woohyun's cheeks, and Howon worries for a moment he's offended him, but then Woohyun laughs. Howon can tell it's not sincere, but Woohyun's trying to act like he's taking it in good stride.

"Hey, weren't you the guy defending this place yesterday, getting all mad when you thought I slighted it?"

"I wasn't mad-" he tries explaining, but Woohyun cuts him off.

"I didn't have a choice."

Howon doesn't miss the way Woohyun's fingers move against the table, or the way his throat swallows. Woohyun's obviously dying to tell someone this, just waiting for any invitation to speak it into words, so much it's moving through him, down into his bones. His mouth twitches, and Howon waits for it all to flood out.

"I was sent here with this stupid plot because they wanted to get me out, for a while," Woohyun says, and it sounds like every bit of the confession Howon expected. "I'm not supposed to come back until I have _at least_ the first five episodes done, plus a few plotlines written out for the rest of the series, depending on which direction they want to take. Seeing as I know almost nothing of Jindo, fishing, or Joseon-era lifestyles in general, they know it will take me a while to get that done. That was the point."

Howon knows Woohyun has more to say, by the way Woohyun looks at him, almost pleading to stay and listen to him for a moment, and he pushes back the desire to roll his eyes. "Why did they send you away?" he says, coming off monotone, an automatic response to signify Woohyun should continue, and Woohyun just nods like he were thinking how to answer that, as if the words hadn't already been formed a million times over in his head.

"I slept with an intern."

Howon can't help but laugh in surprise at the reasoning, biting his cheek when Woohyun looks annoyed. "This seems to be an extreme response, then," he muses.

"It was a relative of my boss. Well, wait, not really my boss," Woohyun says. "The boss of my boss. The head of the department."

" _Oh_." There's a lot of emphasis in his response, seeing the situation for what it really is, and he looks at Woohyun, who seems almost penitent now. Howon nods once, feeling sufficient in his contribution to this conversation and satisfied with its' completion, but Woohyun is still acting restless, and he knows they're not done yet.

"I mean, I know it was wrong, but I can't help but feel unjustly accused," Woohyun says, and his tone's gone bitter. "He came onto _me_ , and suddenly everyone's all up in arms about how _I_ tarnished the department head's nephew. He was an adult, too! And he started this. But I'm the bad guy here."

Howon gets exactly why Woohyun's doing this. It's everything he needs, all wrapped up into one: a confession, of not only his transgressions but also of the lies of omission that brought him here, as well as an introduction of who he is. Woohyun's trying to tell him he's someone who doesn't play by the rules, someone who does what he wants, and, most importantly, someone who isn't afraid of who he is.

But Howon sees the vulnerability underneath it all. Woohyun is laying out everything in front of him, a practical stranger, and though he looks tough, he can tell Woohyun is waiting to be rebuked, and he's not sure why. Woohyun obviously thinks he cares, but he doesn't. He doesn't care if the company lied about the real motives behind this trip. His doesn't mind if Woohyun is a troublemaker back at the office. Woohyun is practically throwing himself at his feet, looking for his approval, but it's been so long since he cared about what anyone felt about him, he's having trouble understanding why.

"I see how that would be a problem," Howon says, and Woohyun's chin rises.

"So you think it's a problem too, then?" Woohyun asks, and Howon wants to rolls his eyes at what Woohyun is so obviously trying to say without actually saying.

"I mean, yeah, it's a problem. Sleeping with co-workers usually is," Howon replies. "Your problem was sleeping with the relative of someone that could have and might have fired you in an instant. You might be upset, but you should probably be happy you weren't sacked, or maybe even slandered to the whole industry to keep you from working there again."

Woohyun looks away, as if he understands that but is too raw to accept he probably is pretty lucky, all things considered.

"You could have slept with any other guy on your staff," Howon goes on, "and it wouldn't have been a problem."

They both know the double meaning of what he's saying, and Howon gives Woohyun his most open face when Woohyun searches it, as if looking for some deceit behind his eyes. Not finding any, Woohyun relaxes into himself a little.

Woohyun looks forlorn. "It would be a big problem for many people."

"And those people are wrong. Who cares what those kind of people think?" Howon keeps this voice soft when he poses that question to Woohyun.

Woohyun seems to think this over, sipping at his forgotten tea cup and grimacing at the taste, whether from bitterness or temperature, Howon's not sure. He waits for Woohyun to say any last remarks before standing to stretch, watching the remains of the storm mist across the yard. He has things to do, dinner to make, conversations to interpret in his head, later, when he's in bed.

Woohyun calls to him as he steps out of the door, and this must be his trademark, always needing to say one last thing.

"Will you help me, then? I just need some background about the lifestyle, a few ideas, and I can run with it. I just want to go home."

Howon just nods. He might have lost the way to go home years ago, but he can still try to help Woohyun find his.

* * *

At first, it's annoying.

There's a raw toughness in Woohyun, an untiring energy that allows him to follow Howon throughout his day without so much as breaking a sweat, but Woohyun hides it well by providing an exhaustive pessimistic commentary on distances, surroundings, and the passage of time itself. Howon isn't sure why Woohyun wants him to think he's unable to handle the exertion; he supposes it's Woohyun trying to convince himself he'll live and die out here before he's allowed to return.

Woohyun goes to extraordinary lengths to give him an idea of how he's going to write this script. Over the course of a week, not counting the rainy days where they're shut in, Woohyun treks across the landscape with him, explaining his usual modus operandi, and how much of a challenge it will be this time. Howon doesn't ask for clarifications, but Woohyun doesn't seem to mind; it goes on, and just when he thinks it will stop, it begins again.

"You must have more friends than you know what to do with at home," Howon muses as they share kimbap by a stream, and Woohyun swallows audibly before asking for clarification.

"What makes you say that?"

"You talk so much, I figure you have to keep them on rotation so no one gets overwhelmed with it all."

It's offensive. Howon knows it's offensive, but doesn't take the steps to prevent that. It's _meant_ to be offensive. But he doesn't want to just tell him to shut up. It's not really a problem, if he's being honest with himself - he just finds it incredible one person could have so much to say about nothing in particular, not including that what's of worth to actually talk about.

Woohyun's face goes through four obvious mood changes before settling into a rationally calm one. "I don't, really. It's very hard to make friends in the industry. Everyone's in it for themselves; people only want to be friends if they can use you as a stepping stool to the next level."

Woohyun doesn't provide further commentary, and Howon gives him a skeptical look, waiting for Woohyun's fleeting anger to turn back around with something like "you know, I just think it's funny that..." Instead, Woohyun looks some type of serene that could only be constructed, asking Howon why he had chosen to bring him to the valley they had stopped to eat in.

Howon tells him everything he knows, from the folklore that surrounded the valley, the history of the earth, it's role in the battles that had taken place long ago. He surprises himself, not only with the pure information he knows of this place, but the fact when he looks down at his watch, he's been talking for forty minutes straight.

Woohyun's face is a barely contained gloat when he meets his eye. He's not going to apologize, but he feels less confident in his teasing from earlier, like Woohyun gained the upper-hand in a game he didn't even know they were playing. Woohyun just smiles.

"It's so easy to talk about something you love for a long time, right?"

Howon laughs.

* * *

The air is cool where they lie in the tall grasses, the heat swept away by a fleeting afternoon storm. Woohyun's trip is halfway over, if his three completed episodes are any measure, and summer is alive and well across the island, the daily rainstorms volatile and quick.

Woohyun had asked to be taken somewhere secretive, a place they could be undetected, as if they were on the run. The shirt Woohyun had worn on their walk over is rolled under his head, pillowed against the grass - he had said he wanted to get an authentic experience of sleeping out, like a outlaw, hiding amongst the land. Howon had laid down, not close, but not far enough away not to be able to enjoy the sight.

Howon had admitted to himself that Woohyun was fascinating the moment he arrived. Personally, he didn't have reservations about sleeping with his guests; as it were, his policy was to sleep with any of his guests that were good-looking and willing, without much more discernment than that. He knew some did it because it seemed exotic. Some did it because they were lonely. Some because they were curious. He let them come to him, in his bed at night, in his work cabin. If they wanted him, and he always knew when they did, he'd wait.

But he doesn't want to wait for Woohyun.

It had started at dinner the night before. He had watched as Woohyun had volunteered to chop wood, arcing the axe over his shoulder without complaint. Howon shouldn't have stared - he knew Woohyun knew he watching perhaps a little too intently, but he hoped Woohyun assumed he just didn't have anything to do but wait on the wood. Woohyun's muscles had rippled, yielding to the force of the blows, and Howon had felt a tug deep in his belly that had swayed him. The men before had scratched an itch of sorts; the sex was unremarkable, their faces forgettable. Now, it didn't feel the same.

He _wanted_ Woohyun.

It had been a long time since Howon had really _wanted_ someone. Long enough that it disrupted his ability to think clearly for the rest of the evening. He had taken Woohyun's chopped wood without a word, not even able to thank him for his work, and had started the process of building the fire in the outdoor stove, overdoing it just to give himself something else to think about. He had fanned tirelessly, trying to concentrate on the sparks of the fire instead of the sparks that had begun raging for Woohyun, who watched on from the side. Howon didn't try to subtly look and see if Woohyun looked at the fire or him.

It was something like this, if his brain remembers correctly: his shirt had been discarded, overwhelmingly hot between the fire before him and the last heat of the sun setting against his back. Woohyun had squatted down beside him to see, a little unbalanced on his feet. He had reached out, placing his hand on Howon's back to steady himself, and Howon had tensed, fully overwhelmed by the sensation Woohyun of touching him. He was not prepared for his body's immediate response, or the stuttering stumble of his heart.

Woohyun had known. He had had to have known what was happening. Woohyun had looked at the fire, saying, what? - Howon doesn't know, because his brain was screaming something about Woohyun's warm, rough hand instead of paying attention - and then he had just sat there. Stayed next to Howon, hand on his back, looking at the fire. At first, the sensation was so delicate, it could have been mistaken for something else, and then it couldn't. Woohyun's fingers traced circles on the small of his back, starting subtle, ending obvious.

Then Woohyun had just walked away.

Howon knows it was both a hint and not a hint. A test, a question, something like that. But what he doesn't know is if he gave the right answer. In reality, he had given no answer. He had not pushed Woohyun away. He had not asked for him to continue. Woohyun had said nothing else, and his looks and words for the rest of the night spoke of nothing, either. They both continued on as if it didn't happen.

But it _had_ happened.

Now, lying in the tall grass, Howon knows Woohyun isn't sleeping, even though his eyes have been closed for thirty minutes. Howon knows because he's watched him. Everything about him says he asleep, his gently rising chest, the loose, relaxed body, everything except Woohyun's hand - Howon watched that, too. Watched it slide down Woohyun's chest slowly, sleepily, inching it's way over twenty minutes and all that skin until it stopped at the band of Woohyun's swim shorts, where it had edged the fabric, slow lines drawn over the veins on his hips.

Woohyun is fucking teasing him, and he has no idea what to do about it. Is he asking for it here and now? Howon can't do that - he needs the security of his own space, and the comfort it brings - but can he tell him he wants him, too? Howon doesn't even know if Woohyun really wants him to roll him over in the grass right here, or if he's just being a tease for fun.

When Woohyun finally pretends to " _wake up_ ", he jots down a few notes in his book and stands to brush the dirt off his shorts, once again acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. But this time, Howon feels his heavy stares all the way back home; Woohyun watches him down the paths and cutting through fields, as Howon hides a smile when Woohyun really starts looking aggravated.

A ghost of a memory whispers through the back of his mind, and the smile disappears. He'll come to Woohyun, if that's what Woohyun wants, but only after Woohyun knows who he really is. There's still a conversation that needs to be had before he can let his heart fly free again.

* * *

Howon sits down on the porch edge, placing a bottle between them as they watch the sun go down. Woohyun looks sated, leaned back against the wood full on jeonbokjuk and makgeolli from the family three homes over. They had gone over in the early afternoon, and they family had shared more stories of the island than Howon even knew. Woohyun had had this charismatic ease, making the matriarch smile and pinch his cheeks, and Howon had been in awe of his ability to be so open, even in front of strangers. Woohyun in public was a well-refined act, but Howon didn't see it as fake; it was more carefully crafted, every word purposeful in its' intent.

Woohyun's eyebrows hike up when he turns the bottle over in his hand. "Whisky? Pulling out the big guns?"

"I drink whisky when I want to get fucked up," Howon says, grabbing it back to take the first swig.

"Is that the plan?" Woohyun asks, reaching for the bottle again, and Howon hands it over.

"It is for me, at least."

Practically speaking, Howon's not much for secrets. Back in high school, his friends would joke about his glass face - every emotion filtered through, though not because he wasn't capable of hiding it. Hiding something away has just never been his thing, not when he's always been pretty confident in what he believes. On the porch, Woohyun's hand is centimeters away from his, looking like it might reach out to take his own. Howon realizes he wants that to happen, and it moves him to start talking.

The story of Sungjong can be either long or short, depending on how he feels that day. One part of him wants to go through every detail, just so Woohyun will know how it felt the first time they met, when Sungjong moved from Gwangju to Changwon and ended up two classes behind him in school. _Like magnets_ , his mom had said, not quite understanding why he clung to someone two years his junior, but then again, she wouldn't have. In the beginning, he didn't either.

Sungjong had answered a question that had been ebbing in the back of his mind - did he, or did he not? - coming back and disappearing over time. It seemed so stupid, in retrospect, but he had been buying snacks during their class break from the cart in the courtyard, and Sungjong was there, in front of him in line; Howon had thought he was magical, and, like that, he was already gone. Sungjong had turned around to ask him what time it was, and when Sungjong had looked at him, all coy smile and knowing eyes, that was it.

For him, at least.

Sungjong had allowed him to fall in love with him thoroughly before returning any inclination he might ever feel the same way, and Howon had almost gotten used to the idea it would be unrequited love forever until Sungjong had finally looked over and kissed him one night while they were watching a movie. No one questioned their closeness, beyond the age difference - he would go over to Sungjong's and they would study in his room, eating the snacks Sungjong's mom would leave them, and she would coo over Howon being such a responsible hyung, keeping Sungjong on target with his schoolwork, introducing him to the new city they lived in. She was a teacher too, and those things were important to her - not only grades, but Sungjong's ability to adjust, as a high schooler, to a city completely different than the one he had spent his whole life in.

But as soon as they knew his parents were asleep, the books would close, the lights would go off, and they would explore a new world together. Sungjong's parents knew the brief synopsis about his desire to be away from his house - a place that wasn't exactly the definition of home - but they didn't know the real reason he stayed so many nights was not to avoid his father's abuse and mother's misery. It was to find himself in the haven of Sungjong.

Howon doesn't leave out those details. He tells Woohyun of the memories of Sungjong, a halo of light around his body from the lampposts outside his window, illuminating his pale, pale skin, because he wants Woohyun to know. Alone in the dark, Sungjong made him feel like who he was was okay, perfect, loveable, ideas he had struggled with on his own, concepts shattered by his father. Sungjong would beckon to him, pulling him in to leave featherlight kisses all over his body. Sungjong would stroke his hair until he fell asleep, fingers laced together.

Sungjong taught him love was a thing that you carried with you, wherever you went. Even when he was on the train to Seoul, or the bus to Daegu, going off to some other dance competition his parents didn't want him going to, Sungjong's sure words of "you are better than all of them, hyung" easing his nerves. It wasn't obsessive - he didn't think of Sungjong every minute of every day, and he knew Sungjong didn't either. They both had their own lives and friends, separate of one another. But sometimes, walking on the street, he would see something that reminded him of Sungjong, and the comfort of knowing he was in his life, and that he loved him, made him feel invincible.

He tells Woohyun all of this too, and Woohyun doesn't interrupt him, letting him go on and on, even when the sun disappears beyond the horizon.

He was away when it happened. When he tells Woohyun, the memory is so vivid, he can recall exactly what he was wearing and what seat he was sitting in when she called him to tell him. Gwangsuk had been on the aisle seat next to him, on the bus to Ulsan, sharing a pair of earbuds, when his phone rang. It was in his left pocket of the Adidas pants his mom had saved money to buy for him, ones he later threw out because they were tied to this moment. The caller ID had made him pause - Nayeon's number was leftover from that time they had a group project the year before, but they never called each other after that - and he had answered with a question in his voice.

" _Hello_?"

The memory muddles a bit. He remembers Gwangsuk dragging him off the bus and back onto another one, this one headed back home. He vaguely remembers running down the street, feet falling heavy on pavement, but he doesn't remember the sting of the exertion, even from taking the stairs two at a time, five flights up. It took almost two hours to get to Sungjong's house, but time hadn't really mattered at this point - Sungjong was gone before Nayeon even called.

Woohyun's face is serious but not pitying, and Howon appreciates that, especially through this part of the story.

Nayeon had told him the rough details - drunk driver, run red light, catastrophic collision, Sungjong was gone before the paramedics even arrived. But it didn't seem real until Sungjong's brother opened the door and it's just written all over his face, and Howon couldn't seem to get air into his body. There were people crying in the house, all of them, and the proof of their misery had made the truth sink into his heart.

Howon remembers how it all fell apart too vividly. Sungjong's father, a hand of his shoulder, trying to escort him out. "I'm sorry," he had tried to explain, "but this a time for our family. Please come to the funeral hall-" But Howon had not wanted to leave. He had needed them, because he had lost the same person, and he did not want to go back home, where his pain would have been understood but not _felt_. He was afraid to be alone in this.

He thinks, when looking back, that his mind had thought if he said it, that everyone would have understood without question why he should have been there, mourning with them. There would be no blank stares, no denials - everyone would hear his reasoning and understand with unrestrained acceptance. "I loved him," Howon had said, "and he loved me. Please don't make me leave. He would want me here."

This is the hardest part of the story, and, as if he realizes, Woohyun listens most intently at this part. Howon tells him of Sungjong's father, in his downturned eyes that looked away from something he must have already expected. He tells him of Sungjong's mother's wrath, about how she screamed "my son was a child of God!" in his face, telling him to take it back. Accusing him of defiling her son's name, his virtue. He explains how he lost the ability to hear them, the blood rushing in his ears from the horror of their response so loud it sounded like a cyclone screaming around him. He tells Woohyun how Sungjong's family destroyed the beauty of their love with their open rejection of him, their contempt following him as they pushed him to the door. During the time of mourning, Sungjong's uncles refused to let him in to see him in the funeral hall.

He never got to say goodbye.

Howon doesn't need to get into the finer details of the following self-loathing; Woohyun's obviously walked down that path before. He mentions one moment, a month after Sungjong died, when he confessed to his mother, drunk on soju and memories, and he only has to say "the look on her face was so...disturbed" before Woohyun puts a hand on his forearm, silently asking him to leave off. Their experiences, it seems, are two sides of the same coin. Howon knocks back a long shot from the bottle, signifying the end to his story.

"So you move to fucking Jindo?" It's the first thing Woohyun says, words slurred by the whisky, and Howon laughs, for Woohyun's sake. Other people might have been offended, at Woohyun trying to make it a joke, but Howon's come to realize it's just who Woohyun is. He respects him for what he is - Woohyun's own public repudiation is still raw, and this is how Woohyun chooses to deal with that.

"My mom's mom's brother owned this house. He died like five months later, and I made up my mind then. It had been owned by someone else in the family, a distant cousin or something, passed down, and I knew if I convinced them I would maintain the house, because I heard they didn't really want it, then it was my way out. Because, by then, everyone caught wind of what happened, and I barely went to school anymore. My dad used to rag on me, talking about how I wasn't going to do anything, how much of a waste I was. He didn't even know, about Sungjong - my mom hid it so he wouldn't kill me outright - but I couldn't take it. Everyone was weird around me, my family, my neighbors, everyone that knew except like three or four friends who didn't care about what I was- I mean, am. I left in the middle of the night so I wouldn't have to fight with anyone. I didn't want to see anyone ever again."

"They didn't follow you out here? Your parents, I mean."

"My mom's come a few times, with my younger brother. But they never stay long, and it's been almost two years since they've come. She emails me sometimes, but really, I think she's secretly relieved I've chosen to exile myself. She doesn't worry about me out here. Even if she loves me, I think she's happy I can't cause anymore gossip for our family being so far away from them."

Woohyun looks at him in awe. Howon knows Woohyun would never be the type to drop everything and go - despite how much he tries to come off as arrogant, Howon sees his need for approval as if he wears it on his sleeve. Howon tries to imagine if he had been like Woohyun - could he have survived trying to please everyone? He can tell Woohyun's thinking just the same - could he have left it all behind, just like that?

There isn't really anything left to say. They're both sloppy drunk, and Woohyun leans over heavily with a thunk, head on his shoulder and arm linked in his. At this time, when the village is all quiet, it's easy to hear the waves breaking on the shore, a littoral lullaby as the night closes in. Howon closes his eyes and lets the moment sweep him away, feeling complete for the first time in as long as he can remember.

* * *

Woohyun follows him to check on his lines after lunch, and talks the whole time. There's a monstrosity of a camera slung around his neck, something Woohyun said the company gave to him to document for the writing process. Howon's not sure how Woohyun's going to like lugging that thing up and down the hills, but he doesn't dare suggest Woohyun just leave it at the house.

It's late in the afternoon, but both of them had spent the morning nursing two vicious hangovers. There's still a nagging ache in the base of Howon's skull, like someone pressing their fingers in with an intent to hurt, and Woohyun's chattiness does little to soothe it. Still, there's an easiness in the rest of him that he recognizes as being content, and he half-listens to Woohyun drone on about the details of whatever pointless shit he's talking about now. Moisture drips heavy in the air, making his shirt stick to his back. He figures they have about another hour and a half before the rain starts - that's enough time to give Woohyun an in-depth exploration of the countryside to the west of the village.

Woohyun follows along at his own pace, and he has to keep turning around the find him again, watching him explore something further back a little longer until he's satisfied. It's not so much that Woohyun is easily distracted, he guesses; Woohyun just sees the landscape differently, noticing things for the first time that his mind long ago categorized away as common. He stops when he hears the _click-click-click_ of Woohyun's camera, and then continues when Woohyun sends him a smile, ready to move on.

Woohyun has all kinds of ideas he discusses in a sort of freeform method, hillsides and gullies and twists in the creek making him ask question after question, what if his character hid in something like this, could a secret meeting be held on the banks of the stream? Howon answers to the best of his ability, of what he knows of the land and the history of its' people, and Woohyun takes a few minutes at each spot alone, as if deciding what to do.

When they come out of the woods, back to the shoreline, Woohyun stops again, looking out at the waves crashing. Woohyun is turning to him, pointing at a cliff on the far side of the beach, when a heavy plop of water hits the flat of his nose, sliding down to hang on precariously before falling to the beach sand. Woohyun's cross-eyed, watching it slip its' way down, and Howon does his very best not to laugh, because Woohyun looks horrified. He glances down at his watch and, sure enough, it's been almost an hour forty-five since he first realized it was going to rain.

The droplets come exponentially, first two or three falling together around them, then ten or twelve, growing thicker and heavier as the clouds roll in faster than they can run for shelter, and Howon's just about to let it rain down on him when Woohyun grabs his wrist, pulling him close.

"The camera!"

He's not an expert, but looking at the damn thing, it probably costs more than his life is worth, and Woohyun's panic further supports this idea. The rain is coming on quick, hitting the canopy of the forest with a deafening crash, and Howon yanks it off Woohyun's neck, stuffing it down into his jacket and hoping that will ward off as much damage as possible on the way back home.

"Run!" Howon yells, and then it's a race, not against the rain but each other, feet sinking in the sand as he leads the way. They cut back into the forest, skipping over marked paths to take the shortest route back, and Howon's never felt more alive, tree branches catching on his shirt as the sound of Woohyun's steps chase him through the trees. It's a good ten minutes back to the village, and by then, it's like Heaven has opened on them, dumping out an astonishing amount of rain. The road leading up the hill to his house is like one great river, splashing under their feet as they round home.

It's torrential as they cut through the yard, a waterfall falling from the roof to obscure the porch like a cavern behind it. Both of them kick off their shoes on the stones in front of it, diving through the water and coming up sputtering on the other side, laughing hysterically above the sound. Woohyun reaches for his jacket, helping him ply it off rain-drenched skin, and they both hold on to the camera, turning it over in joint hands to inspect for damage.

"I think it's okay," Woohyun says, seeming assured. "It's not that wet. I'll try it out later."

Woohyun disappears inside with the camera, and Howon clenches his hands, missing the way Woohyun's fitted in his own for a moment. A memory of feeling comes back, but the original version is opaque, hazy with time and unique in its' own way. He had thought, at one time, it would feel exactly the same, but he realizes that was probably a naive notion. Maybe that's why it snuck up on him this time - last time it was like fireworks. Now, it's a slow burn.

Howon senses Woohyun before he hears him. He's standing in the doorway, bangs plastered to his face in every which way, and Howon has always had a hard time saying "you're beautiful", but he can think of a few thousand ways to show him, if that's what Woohyun would want. He's so still, he appears like a statue - his soaked clothes leave nothing to Howon's imagination, and he looks every bit of Michaelangelo's David, formed of stone, every edge flawless. Every line is highlighted, the grooves of his stomach, the definition of his arms. Nam Woohyun is perfect, but of course he is - Woohyun is the same man who put on foundation for the first three days until finally realizing he wouldn't care. The same man who never sports stubble, who styles his hair to sit in the large room at his computer all day. There's such a hint of similarity, a pleasant reminder of someone else once loved, so alike to this man in that way, that his eyes shut for a moment, relishing the wave of affection that courses through him doubly.

When Howon opens his eyes, Woohyun's face is dark, essentially unreadable. Woohyun is looking at him like he's seeing him for the first time. He wants to ask why, but doesn't get the chance to - Woohyun pushes off the door frame, moving straight toward him, and his arms open.

* * *

Thunder booms right overhead, milliseconds after lightning illuminates the room, but it's Woohyun's teeth on his collarbone that makes Howon jump.

Woohyun is rough to the extreme. Howon's hands round around his shoulders, "take it easy" wrapped in a laugh to make it come off easier. Woohyun tastes of rain and desperation - Howon feels his need for consoling in limbs that tangle with his upon his _yo_.

Howon always fumbles with someone new, but Woohyun just takes the lead, unabashed in his guidance. He draws Howon down on top of him, grabbing at his hands and splaying them against his chest, palms grazing his nipples. Woohyun bites down hard on his lip when he does it again, featherlight brushes teasing Woohyun's nipples into tight peaks, and he starts, almost pulling away before Woohyun sucks the raw lip into his mouth, tongue gentling against it.

Howon slows it down, pinning Woohyun's arms above his head and his hips down with his own, keeping him pressed back into the mat. Woohyun lets himself be reigned in, following Howon's lead when he licks open his mouth fully, slowly melting Woohyun into putty. Lightning cracks again, followed shortly by thunder that shakes the floor beneath them, but neither of them seem to notice.

Howon is slow and firm; he gets no feeling from taking things too fast. He angles his hips just right, so that his cock slides right up next to Woohyun's, and presses down into him, pelvis rolling down at the end of each stroke to fully slide them together. Howon's broken away from Woohyun's kisses, mapping out the underside of his jaw with nips and sucks, and Woohyun's unoccupied mouth whines when the head of the cocks slide together.

Woohyun is loud where Howon is not, not really. Howon gets Woohyun turned over on hands and knees, and Woohyun voices his approval when Howon slides his hands up the insides of his spread legs. It's been a good half hour since they yanked and tugged their way out of their soaked clothes, but Woohyun's skin is still dewy and chilled, and Howon sets his hands and mouth to change that. He gets up right behind Woohyun, leaning over to run his mouth from the base of his spine, tongue catching every ridge on the way up. His cock slides against Woohyun's ass, settling between his legs from beneath now, and Woohyun's head drops to the mat, whimpering into the blanket.

Howon sets a pace, reaching under Woohyun to get both of them in one hand, and he moves them together, smearing the bead of moisture from Woohyun's slit over the both of them. When Woohyun finally gets his face out of the mat, a string of broken 'Howon's said all in a row, Howon gets two fingers in his mouth. He expects him to just get them wet, but Woohyun sucks them in, biting at the knuckles before swirling his tongue around the joints. Howon's cock throbs up urgently where is rests against Woohyun's own, and Howon gasps at the near loss of control. Usually, he can go indefinitely until he decides to let himself cum, but Woohyun nearly dragged him to the edge by just deep-throating his fingers.

It something he notices again as he has Woohyun spread open - the all-consuming fire. It takes a while to work Woohyun open (he barely catches a 'been a while since I-' before his finger pads find Woohyun's prostate and Woohyun loses the ability to say words for nearly five minutes), and the whole time he fights against the overwhelming urge to rip Woohyun's thighs open and sink himself in. As it is, it takes an eternally long time to slide into Woohyun, the grip so tight he has to stop for himself to adjust, not just Woohyun, and when he finally settles into a rhythm, he doubts his ability to last for any length of time.

So instead, he throws himself into concentrating on Woohyun. He sits up, gets Woohyun's legs wrapped around his waist, and goes to work, moving to Woohyun's urges, listening to his sounds as his guide. Howon spits into the palm of his hand, saliva hot and wet, and circles the head of Woohyun's dick, watching his fingers yank the blanket when he thumbs the slit. He bends down, hips and hand still moving in unison, and sucks Woohyun's nipple into his mouth.

Woohyun falls apart.

Woohyun falls apart so slowly because he won't let him go fast. Howon drags him to the edge of release only to stutter his hips, pull off his fingers for just a moment, and Woohyun sobs into him, seeking out his mouth to beg "please, please, please" against it. Howon stops it all, hands on either side of Woohyun's face until he opens his eyes to look up at him, and then he starts it all over again with a smile.

He doesn't manage to hold on; Woohyun's restless movements, his little sighs, it's all too much for him to keep going. He digs his face into Woohyun's neck, panting against his shoulder when fireworks explode behind his eyes, and he just barely manages to keep his hand pumping a tight ring, sliding the head of Woohyun's cock through his spit-slick fist, but he drags Woohyun down with him, moaning in relief and ecstasy when Woohyun's body clutches around him through his last spasms. Woohyun's fingers dig into the muscles of his back, and the sound he makes is so glorious, so loved and surprised, Howon knows he'll never be able to forget it.

Lightning still splinters the sky overhead, and Howon looks at Woohyun right as it shatters the dark of the room, painting Woohyun in a divine light. Howon stomach tightens, twisting in a dizzy spell when Woohyun drags him down again. Now that his brain is foggy and calm, he takes the time to appreciate the finer details of the man he holds in his hands - the bow of his mouth, and the way his bottom lip drags against his; his thick fingers, tangled in the hair at the back of his skull, one thumb stroking the fine skin on his neck.

Howon flops down beside him in exhaustion, one arm outstretched, cupping Woohyun's face, and Woohyun gives him a sleepy smile before his eyes flutter shut. Howon takes one last moment, memorizing the line of Woohyun's nose, and the way it cuts sharp, a marked angle before his mouth rounds delicately, and finally, he sinks into the dark with Woohyun.

* * *

"Am I very much like him?" Woohyun asks after seemingly hours of silence, and Howon stirs from his dreaminess.

"No," Howon tries, voice thick with disuse. "No. Not really at all."

Woohyun laughs at the emphasis he puts on that, and he turns to look at him, only moonlight illuminating his face. It's a comfortable type of feeling - the type of hour of morning you only share with someone you care about, the feeling of lying in bed, well sated, content with your lover being a solid presence beside you. It's been many years since Howon's felt like this, and he flexes the fingers splayed against Woohyun's lower belly, feeling him sigh in response.

"You both like the way my hips moved," he teases, unsure if it's too much for Woohyun to handle, but Woohyun just rolls his eyes in response.

The muscles under his hand tense for a moment, and when Howon looks up, he catches the threat of a question yet to be asked on Woohyun's face. Woohyun isn't laughing anymore, and Howon knows he's about to come to terms with it.

"I just didn't know...I mean, were you with me because I reminded you of him or-?"

Resoundingly so, that's not the case at all. Howon knows there's no way for Woohyun to really know that, but he wish he didn't have to ask. If only because Woohyun should know he wouldn't do that; for Woohyun to know he is enough, by himself, to be loved and wanted without needing a precept or condition.

Howon turns his face away when he says it, but only as he's shy to admit it. "No. I wanted you because of who you are," he says, and the muscles beneath his hand relax. "And I still do, if you'll have me."

Woohyun's hand laces with his, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand as they sink into quiet once again. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes later, the circle of Woohyun's thumb stops, and for a moment, Howon's sure he's fallen asleep finally. He turns to see, and Woohyun's looking at him, eyes bright in the dark. Woohyun's fingers circle his own, raising them to his mouth, and Woohyun kisses the palm of his hand, a response to his last statement. Howon knows it's all about the begin again, and he turns on his side, thumb dipping into Woohyun's mouth.

* * *

It doesn't take any time at all for Howon to realize Woohyun is everything he's wanted.

And he's some things Howon didn't. Woohyun's too loud by half, too proud, too willing to compete over nothing and act moody when he inevitably loses. As the days go on, Howon finds himself going out on a limb, just to humor Woohyun. He doesn't remember when he turned into that person.

Woohyun adds something to his life he hadn't realized was missing. He still wakes up in the morning, goes out and does what he wants, and Woohyun does his thing, but when he comes back, Woohyun is there, and his heart melts when Woohyun pats a hand on the floor, beckoning him to come sit. He had forgotten love was something that didn't consume like wildfire, but illuminated like a candle lit in a dark room, spreading light to every corner. Woohyun's kisses, his whispered words at 3 am, warm him when he goes out into the ocean, keeping him strong and eager.

It transforms him.

Woohyun brings him out of himself, without him even knowing that's what's happening. The parts he had hidden away, covered in darkness to prevent exposing himself to the devastation of loss again, are revealed every time Woohyun curls around his back, dropping his head to one shoulder. His soul opens when Woohyun links their fingers, watching the sunset from the porch. Once again, he feels the freedom of being loved by someone who accepts you, unconditionally, without restraint.

But Howon already knows the end to this story, and fights against time to find the solution. Woohyun seems so carefree, Howon knows he's already written the finale in his head - but Woohyun's forgetting a part to this story that changes everything.

It's five weeks to the day when Howon comes back to Woohyun and his wet eyes after his morning fishing. Woohyun seems in a daze when he returns, and he has to call his name twice before he reacts. He knows what Woohyun's going to say, but, God, he just needs a little more time before this happens.

"My works been approved. They said it was sufficient. I'm allowed to go back, Howon. I'm allowed to go home."

Woohyun's face is so happy, and Howon wants to give him that happiness back so much, but he knows when he smiles at him, because words just won't come now, it's all wrong. Woohyun is still smiling, but he gives him a half-confused laugh, head to the side and eyebrows tilted. Woohyun doesn't understand what's about to happen, but Howon does.

"I can go back," Woohyun says again, but it comes out as a question this time, as if asking Howon if he understands. Howon nods again, turning away to the kitchenette to drop the onions the old lady down the path gave him on his way back home. He makes a production of cleaning them off, anything to do but look at Woohyun's face. The silence between them now is nothing short of unpleasant, and Howon winces when he finally hears Woohyun stand up.

Woohyun is only a few feet away now. "You are coming with me, right?" he asks, his trepidation making Howon's stomach churn.

Every happy moment they ever had together seems to be shattered in less than a minute. Howon turns around, counter digging into the counter as he leans into it, and looks Woohyun straight in the face, just so there's no doubting the sincerity in his decisions.

"I can't do that, Woohyun."

Woohyun doesn't seem to understand. The reasonings at least. He understands the words, because he laughs, but it's all wrong. There's no humor in it.

"You're going to stay _here_?" Woohyun asks, but it's obviously a loaded question. "What do you have going on here?"

Howon tries to level his anger. "Here? My _whole life_ is here. I'm a fisherman for God's sake, Woohyun. What exactly am I going to do in Seoul? I fix cast nets, and clean up fish guts, and that's about it. Tell me what a place like Seoul has for someone like me."

Woohyun knew, too. Howon can tell from his lack of rebuttal, the way his mouth frowns like it's tasting something sour, that he just was in denial. Woohyun knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he couldn't just leave this behind; he had tried, however, because that's the kind of twisted optimism someone like Woohyun needs to keep operating.

"You said you used to dance-" Woohyun attempts, but Howon cuts him off.

" _Used_ to. I don't walk that path anymore."

Woohyun's eyes are damp, but Howon knows it's from frustration, not sadness - that won't come til later, when the realization they're never going to see each other again sets in. The truth is already swimming through Howon's veins, but he's doing his best to keep it together. Woohyun throws his hands up, in surrender, and they fall to his thighs with a clap, not unlike the thunder that's hung over them through Woohyun's entire stay. Woohyun's mouth keeps moving, but he can't seem to find the right words to say.

"So that's just it, then?" Woohyun asks, words stuttering out around the unshed tears lodged in his throat. Howon looks at him and, as unhelpful as it is, shrugs in response. There's no point in suggesting "you could stay here", because Howon would never ask that of him. Woohyun's avoided sinking straight into misery during his time here simply because he threw himself into Howon. But Howon knows his love can't provide protection for Woohyun forever. Woohyun's place is in the city, just like his place is on this island.

Woohyun starts with "I can't believe-", but Howon never gets to hear the rest of it. A sob cuts off the rest of the sentence, and Woohyun turns away, walking out of the front door and across the yard. Howon doesn't know where he's going, and doesn't attempt to go after him; he's never been able to be the type of person who is capable of handling these situations with any sort of practical help. Even if he found Woohyun, he'd probably just make it worse by saying the wrong thing, or nothing at all.

Instead, he goes to bed early, not out of cowardice, but hoping to protect Woohyun from any further damage. He listens to him come in, sometime after sunset, and some fragile part of his heart wishes for Woohyun to come to him, at least once more, because he's not ready to let love go. Woohyun's feet walk around the big room, coming closer as Howon stops breathing for a moment, but they turn away again, and Howon can hear Woohyun's door slide closed across the house.

Howon presses his face into his _yo_ and falls apart.

* * *

There are no more words said between them.

Howon comes back two days after Woohyun tells him of his imminent return, and there's a car parked in front of the house. The trunk's open, and as Howon passes by on his way inside, he can see almost all of Woohyun's stuff is already inside.

Woohyun and his driver are bringing out the last bags by the time Howon reaches the porch, and Howon gets his first good look at him for the first time since their disagreement. Woohyun looks like hell - the bags under his eyes say all they need to about Woohyun's lack of sleep, and his skin looks sallow and pale, like he hasn't been eating either. Howon's just not prepared for how devastating seeing Woohyun like this is; a dreadful chill sinks deep into his heart, and he's not sure if he'll ever be able to rid himself of it.

Woohyun has on his professional mask, the flawless one that must have gotten him so high in the industry in the first place. "Thank you, Lee Howon-sshi," he says evenly, with a deep bow. "Your hospitality will never be forgotten."

It feels like a slap in the face, but Howon thinks it would be less painful if Woohyun went ahead and did that, instead of giving him this, whatever it is. Like they didn't just spend five weeks with each other, at every possible moment, mouths exploring bodies, words opening hearts. Woohyun looks at him like he's something just over the line of stranger, and it's simply the most miserable thing he can imagine himself having to go through.

The driver shifts from one foot to another, waiting for their goodbyes to finish so they can move along, and Howon bows in response, giving Woohyun no words in return. As simple as that, Woohyun gets in the car and drives away.

Howon moves into the house, staring at the now-empty sitting room. No more scattered notebooks, no more forgotten tea cups. Everything is pristine, minimalistic. Bare. Just like his life. There's nothing personal anymore, no mementos of anything, and it's so heartbreaking - he had never thought he needed them before, but now he knows their importance. Woohyun had made his life lively, with all his chaos and glory. He sits at the table, fingers spread on the lacquer top, and wonders just how in the hell he's going to manage to keep going on.

* * *

There's a big SUV parked outside his front gate when he returns home from his daily fishing, though that's not necessarily surprising. People in the countryside suggest his place to stay to travelers all the time; it's not so strange to have people just show up, hoping for an open spot for the night, or longer. It's been two months since he hosted anyone, not since Woohyun left.

After Woohyun's departure, he had disabled his host profile on the reservation site. The company had given him more money than promised, an extra 500,000 won, and he had known it was Woohyun's doing. His immediate response was to want to give it back, but he realized it was Woohyun's parting gift, the most Woohyun of one-upping someone. The money was more than enough to stop hosting for the time being. Woohyun leaving had taken away his desire to accommodate people and share with them his love of the island; now, the mountains seemed like a prison, keeping him locked in. He looked out at the ocean, not thinking of how it would provide for him, like it did every day, but of how, if he drifted north far enough, passing Incheon to float down the Han, he could reach Woohyun again.

But even that wasn't true. He knew Woohyun's name and nothing else. The executives had contacted him through the host site, on the account he had deleted, erasing all his messages from before. He didn't know Woohyun's e-mail, not his phone number, nothing; he hadn't needed it, not when Woohyun had been with him every moment, and they had parted on bad terms. Even if he made it to Seoul, he realized, he would never be able to find Woohyun - he didn't even know what company Woohyun worked for.

He couldn't even criticize himself for pessimism. There was no hope in finding Woohyun again. When it had sunk in, that Jindo no longer protected him like it once had, that it had transformed into a place that perpetuated his disconnect from the world, and from what he wanted, it was too late. That's when he had lost it all - he barely fished, enough to survive, and returned home early, sitting in the same spot Woohyun had every day, hating himself.

He doesn't look forward to the conversation he's about to have. He has no good reason to give the traveler waiting for him except that he's miserable, and it seems pathetic to him that that's his only reason. He's allowed himself to completely immerse himself in his pain, shutting out everyone just like before. The SUV is empty as he walks through the gate, but he can tell from the partially open front door the person or people must be inside. He walks to the porch, kicking his shoes off on the stones in front of it, when he pauses.

The pair of sneakers on the stone next to his are haphazardly discarded, one shoe on its side away from its companion. It confuses him for a moment, why that seems so familiar, but then he finally gets it. By the time he looks up to see who's come out on the porch in front of him, he's crying.

"You're such an idiot, did you know that?" Woohyun says, looking smug, and he laughs and cries at the same time.

"Yeah, I realized."

Woohyun jumps down to the ground, getting on his level, and pulls him in, painfully holding on to him. His body is different, and Howon realizes he's suffered too in the last two months. The muscles are smaller, his whole frame much too thin. Howon grabs his face between two hands, looking him over thoroughly.

"You look like hell," he whispers.

"So do you," Woohyun shoots back.

He had noticed, but only in the back of his mind, that he was changing, too. His clothes hung limp on his body; he had less strength carrying out his routine tasks. He hadn't looked in the mirror, though that was because he didn't want to face himself. But if he looks anything like Woohyun, he can guess his face looks gaunt, his eyes sunken. After Sungjong, he had gotten so frail, his mom had practically force-fed him before he finally left; he hadn't realized this loss had wreaked as much havoc as before.

And that's something he had tried to ignore. Losing Sungjong was unfair, simply put. Sungjong could have been so much, and Howon still struggled to this day to find answers to why Sungjong had been taken away when he had so much life yet to live. Losing Woohyun wasn't like that at all - Sungjong had been stolen away; he had let Woohyun slip through his hands.

He had let Woohyun go because he had lied himself into believing that Jindo was the only place he could be himself. And then he had had all that time, to think about it, and he realized Jindo was a place he hid from himself, and always had been. There was nothing in Jindo for him but solitude. After Sungjong, he had needed it, to heal. And he had healed. But he had overstayed his welcome, using Jindo ask a mask to limit his own personal growth under the guise of protecting himself. Telling himself he was limited the life of a fisherman was a disservice to who he really could be. But even Woohyun saw through that.

"When I left," Woohyun says, "the only thing you said you knew how to do was to fish, and repair nets. That's not true. The reason my company picked your house was because you had over 100 five-star reviews. I remember looking at your profile before I left, and everyone went on and on about your hospitality, how you helped them find themselves out here, giving everyone anything they thought they needed and things they didn't realize they did. You did that for me, too. Look, it's true I'm here to convince you to come back with me, but I'm not going to stay long if you don't want me to. All I'm saying is is that I think you belong with me. I think you know that, and maybe you were afraid before. But I promise I'll try to give you back what you gave me - I won't let you get lost in the city."

Woohyun doesn't need to go through this all, because he doesn't need the convincing; still, there's something so reassuring about Woohyun giving him this back, because it's been a long time since someone showed him he contributed something positive to the world, and to other people. Sungjong and Woohyun might have been two completely different people, but there's still the sameness about them, their ability to soothe his fears about himself by showing him the parts of himself he couldn't see.

"Also, I bought a _hanok_ in the _hanok_ village in Seoul," Woohyun adds, looking that type of cocky he puts on as protection when he's afraid he's going to get shot down. "It's in the Northern style, but I think you'd still be an incredible host."

Howon laughs and cries at the same time again, moved to tears by Woohyun's lengths to provide him a place and purpose, but humored by it as well. "What if I said no?"

Woohyun's eyebrows shoot up. "Well, then I would be fucked."

Howon doesn't say no - he doesn't say anything at all. But he knows Woohyun understands what he means when he pulls him in, clinging on to him tight. That's all the answer he needs to give.


End file.
